Throwback Writing - Ode to the West Coast

Dear Future Love, Before our romance begins I want to share with you my first love. I request we journey to the edge of creation, where California meets the Pacific Ocean. Stop in every nook and cranny of the enchanted path until the road becomes as familiar as the veins winding through the back of my hand. For you I will pluck the clouds from their golden perches. Those ancient travelers have rested plenty, their beards have grown long enough to form a nest. Perhaps I will finally prevent the fog from offsetting the cosmos and turning the sun into a moon at high noon. All you need to know about me is what I find beautiful. My previous fling asked me lots of loaded questions about my past and my future. I answered sparsely. Why? Thoughts like that don’t occupy my mind. I think in terms of art. I notice the paint like splatter on the trees following the coast. I get lost in the curves of the waves that go from mute gray to brilliant blue when they hug the rocks with recklessness. I look and find the entire bend of color in a tiny section of the hill, among the dried up yellow hay, brick-red succulents, and worn-out green moss. I value the temporary beauty of nature. I strive to make a moment last my lifetime through painting. I search for imperfection because it brings true inspiration. I want to enjoy the journey with you, not the destination. Love, Y